Tonight we went into the studio to record Chapter Two of the secret project. At one point, the narration refers to one of the characters whistling. When we paused, Rob said, “Are you going to whistle?”

“No. I can’t whistle,” I replied.

A moment of silence passed with Rob’s mouth hanging slightly open. “Are you my wife?”

“Yes. But I can’t whistle.”

“Really? How did I not know that? Not at all?” He then whistled a scale. Bastard.

“Not reliably. I can make a sound, but not with any consistency. Inhaling. I can whistle on the inhale, but not blowing”

This seemed to fascinate Rob, while I felt a sort of delighted dread. Then I tried to show him what little whistling I could do, which tonight amounted to the sound of wind on the moor. Not a whistle, but not simply breath. I have no idea why whistling would have come up before, but Rob is apparently quite excited by the fact that I’m incapable of whistling. When we finished recording the chapter, he leapt up and came into the booth to ask more questions. This is the source of the delight and the dread. I have intrigued my husband by revealing a new aspect of myself, and new aspects are a precious commodity when you have known someone for seven years, but it’s something I’m bad at.

How about you? Is there something about you that your significant other learned after you’d been together long enough that it seemed as if the surprises were mostly over? Or, for that matter, what surprising thing are you bad at?

We have a Wedgewood stove from the 40s or 50s which is built like a Packard. It’s heavy, solid metal and the best stove I’ve ever cooked on. Look at that–double ovens, a griddle and the burners. Oh my. They each have two sets of flame, so you can turn the heat way down low for a nice slow simmer.

One of the oven regulators stopped working about two years ago and Rob fixed it. It stopped again. Most of the time, a single oven is fine, but when I’m having a dinner party, I really want that second oven.

Then my beloved found another Wedgewood. It’s not the deluxe chrome model that ours is, but all the internal stuff is exactly the same. So he bought it and in our newly empty living room, Rob is disassembling our parts stove to restore our real stove.

Look at him. T-shirt. Tools. Oh, and latex gloves… My, my my. This distracting vision has been next to my computer for the past several days. I don’t know how to express my satisfaction that my oven is being serviced. I’ll just say that you should see the way he handles his screwdriver.